Knight of Cydonia
by Chris Robins
Summary: "One day, wizard kind will go too far... They will forget the meaning of Love, of Kindness and Forgiveness. They will all forget, save one, and his plight will reach Her."


_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The notion is a laughable concept.**_

_A/N: Short one shot. Inspired by Muse's 'Knights of Cydonia,' but I'm sure you already figured that out. _

_"When stuck on story, go an entirely different direction. Jar the mind, quake the senses and pray to your deity that inspiration finds you again."_

**XX**

Harry stood frozen as Voldemort walked forward, speaking happily of the boy's demise. Screams around him, particularly from Hermione, told his mind he should run, get away and regroup so they could attack the mad man proper.

But he didn't move or even flinch.

He could hear the music playing, a song he once heard on the radio and now it was if the wireless was right in front of him. It was the interlude, right before the crescendo, the words that were repeated for a better part of the song.

Understanding hit him like a bludger and Harry's eyes grew hazy.

Voldemort stopped a short distance in front of him and eyed his enemy with caution. There was a change around the boy; a disturbance that transcended internal effort or desire, something that could not come from within, something more.

His eyes, already slits, narrowed further, _'Someone interferes…'_

Although the twisted reason and logic was not available to the bystanders, those forced to be spectators of this final battle, they could _feel it_ and it showed on their faces. There was a tension now in the Great Hall, a buildup of magic that felt old and restless from neglect. The Hall's ceiling, renowned throughout the Wizarding World as one of the great wonders of their culture had ceased to be, nothing but the black marble remained.

A low rumble emanated from somewhere within the castle: a dull moan, a noise of awakening. Something stirred in the deep, the darkness long forgotten of the ancient rooms whose enchantments gave Hogwarts her power.

Fear was present on their faces: Hermione, Ron, Neville, others from the DA, and many adults who had survived until this moment. Fear for what they could feel was coming, fear for themselves but few, few held a growing fear for the young boy, now man, whose persona was rapidly changing.

Luna was the only exception, her eyes growing wider as her dear friend transformed before her very eyes. Her mother had spoken of a moment like this, a moment that she, the daughter of a forgotten seer, would come to witness.

'_One day, my Moonbeam. One day, wizard kind will go too far. They will forget the harmonies that our Founders so joyously knew. They will forget the meaning of Love, of Kindness and Forgiveness. They will all forget, save one, and his plight will reach Her. She will take pity on him, the last remnant of her tribe. She will watch and study him, such is her way. But when all options are removed, when the moment of greatest entropy falls before his feet, She will come and together they will lay Ruin to the folly of our kind.'_

"She's here…" Luna mumbled, her voice so small and afraid that had circumstances been any different, heads would have turned to look at her in shock. But none now could, as all gazes were given to the glowing young man, his eyes alight with a green fire. They radiated an anger that was not of this world; ancient did not even begin to describe it.

Harry's voice sounded in the Hall, accompanied by an undertone of immense power.

"_The time has come to make things right. You and I will fight to survive!"_

Voldemort, in all his experience and strength, poured forth every effort he had in his possession to erect the strongest of shields and did so in a moment that spared his life. Harry hadn't even moved, his wand in his hand still pointed towards the ground and yet a wave of silvery magic had appeared and thrust itself at the Dark Lord. The resounding clash of magics was louder than anything anyone had ever experienced before and so powerful, that all were knocked to the floor. Bodies were pushed back against the walls of the Hall and some died from just the shockwave that had struck them.

Voldemort eventually recovered from the swift attack and his wand crackled in retribution as he took aim.

"_Avada Keda…_" and his voice trailed off, the tip of his wand glowing brighter before the green light faded entirely.

The body that was once Harry Potter was no more, and in its place floated an owl breathed in flame, its wings softly flapping in order to keep itself afloat. The room had gone deathly quiet and only the sound of the bird's wings permeated the silence.

'_Εκλιπαρούν για έλεος εσάς που ατιμία συγγενείς μου.'_

Many in the Hall were unversed in the tongue of the ancients, but Voldemort was not.

"You will have no such thing from me!" he bellowed and readied himself again; spells, numerous in their quantity and color, burst forth from the Dark Lord's wand like a river. Those who had righted themselves against the walls were pushed back again against the stone.

No words were spoken nor movements made and everyone witnessed the power of Lord Voldemort. His eyes alight with the bloodiest of reds, his wand would only sway, a mark that showed his prowess in the Dark Arts.

But Harry, this owl or whatever he became was of equal strength. The bird simply floated, continued to flap its wings as spells of the Darkest Nature flew to a point in front of it before being forced to circle the bird in an arc before being absorbed. What felt like hours was merely seconds and the onslaught of magic from Lord Voldemort began to wane before vanishing entirely.

Heaping gasps for air now accompanied the soft flapping of wings as the once proud Dark Lord bent over in exhaustion. To the lucky few in the audience, realization dawned quickly: Voldemort should not have tired so easily from his display.

"What devilry is this! What have you done to rob me of my strength!"

'Δεν είστε άξιοι'

"Simpleton!" the Dark bellowed, "Show yourself from behind your cloak! Face me like the cowardly wizard you are!"

The creature shrieked and the candles in the Great Hall flickered before going out. Wisps of flame came off the bird in waves, raising the temperature quickly. Out of the dancing flames, two gleaming eyes of the purest emerald looked at Voldemort with the utmost revulsion.

'Είστε να μην είναι προικισμένη με το θάνατο. Θα σας δοθεί πολύ χειρότερα.'

The bird flapped its wings angrily and fire surrounded the Dark Lord, wrenching screams from his throat.

'_Εκείνοι που έχετε επισημάνει…'_

Death Eatters, young and old began to scream along with their master. The mark that made them who they were was outlined not in black, but red flame and was eating away at their arm. Nearly half of the Hall's occupants, all those who charged on Hogwarts, fell onto their knees if they weren't already.

'_θα ακολουθήσουν, Διότι εγώ είμαι Κυδωνία!'_

"Curse you! Curse you Har!" and the rest was drowned out as the line of Riddle was purged from the Earth in a ritual of fire. No sooner had the most vile of men been removed, his follows, all those bearing the Dark Mark followed suit, cries of pain and mercy intermingled with the stench of burning flesh and ash.

The owl continued to flap its wings, the screeching now gone and the fires receding to its body. The Great Hall cooled considerably, the temperature returning to normal and the candles flickered back to life. The creature of fire, whose shape was that of an owl, finally moved from its spot. It flew up and around the heads of silent and shocked spectators before circling tighter and tighter and landing on the shoulder of one Luna Lovegood.

'_You whose bloodline is of the Seer. By your witness, my Knight has been spared. Keep silent the words you have heard, as I shall ever watch over him for his enemies are many.'_

Luna could only gape as the owl flew from her shoulder and burst into flame, leaving in its wake the unharmed body of Harry Potter who collapsed onto the floor in a heap. She dared not move as others rushed to him, Hermione leading the pack. As they tended to their hero, in Luna's mind burned the voice of a Goddess, never to be heard by a living soul ever again.

'_Beg for mercy as you dishonor my kin._

_You are not worthy._

_You are not to be endowed with death. You will be given far worse._

_Those you have marked…_

_will follow, for I am Cydonia!'_

XX

_A/N: In case you didn't guess, the ending is the translation of the Greek to English (rough translation mind you, or I should say by Google's reckoning.' As far as pairings go... meh, squint your eyes, tell me what you see. _


End file.
